


The Other Half

by TheLovelyPatronus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Final Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 14:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLovelyPatronus/pseuds/TheLovelyPatronus
Summary: “Wow,” Harry whispered to himself. “Is that you? Am I feeling your heart beating?” He was looking into her eyes now and she nodded.“I feel yours too” The words came out on a breath.





	The Other Half

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Harry and Hermione bought rings that let them feel each other's heartbeats. Hermione(Or Harry, writers choice) couldn't bare to take theirs off when the other was buried. The first Halloween after their death, the ring starts beating again.
> 
> This piece was written for Harmony & Co’s Halloween Competition, Double Double Toil and Trouble. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work. Thank you to my [alpha/beta] for their work on this piece.

Ronald was gone. He had spewed his venomous words, broken both of their hearts and then he had simply gone. He had left them behind to destroy the Horcruxes and end the war.  _ The coward!  _ Hermione had thought to herself. He promised them he would be by their side until the very end.  _ What bloody bullshite.  _ She was fuming now as she sat watching in the pitch black of the forest. 

Harry was asleep inside the tent; the first time he had slept in four days. She could at least feel relieved about that. They had no sleep schedule to speak of. What little of it came was full of nightmares. Tossing and turning, it was sleep but in no way rest.

They had barely any food aside from mushrooms and tiny winter berries they had scrounged up. Hunger was a feeling they were intimately familiar with now. Hermione was of the opinion that she would never be able to stomach a full meal again. It was like a presence with them at all times. A dark shadowy figure that stared at them from some deep dark crevice, smiling its toothless gap smile at the sound of their rumbling stomachs and the flinches of pain from the cramps. Harry had become so skinny, she could see every bone when he changed his clothes. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Something had to be done!

Godric’s Hollow. The thought entered her mind as if whispered by a presence sat next to her. She knew they’d have to go but every time she laid out a plan, it became apparent that Godric’s Hallow would most certainly have Voldemort’s death eaters stationed there. 

There was no putting it off any longer. She sighed to herself. The leads had dried up and no matter how many times she went through the plan, no other option had presented itself. She’d speak to Harry in the morning. Regardless if it was a trap or not, they had to see for themselves. It was their only option now.

\---------------------------------------------

Harry was ecstatic. She wasn’t sure exactly what he expected to find there. Maybe some hint of his former life. Perhaps some kind of proof that he had been wanted and loved in some far off memory. She didn’t know but she was uneasy either way. 

From the second they apparated into the cemetery, something felt off. She felt as though there were eyes on them. Following them as they spoke to Harry’s parents, as she conjured Lillies to place on their grave. All the time watching them causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Hermione’s stomach cramped with anxiety, she watched every shadow, every bit of movement, waiting for a death eater to attack them.

“We need to get out of sight Harry. Something is off here.” Hermione whispered to him. He nodded and took her arm. He never questioned her. Not since Ron had left them. He apparated them to a side street where he wrapped them in the invisibility cloak. Quietly they made their way to the Potter cottage. 

Harry exhaled sharply and when she looked up, she could see why. The house was fully intact except for the right side of the top floor. The roof was blown apart, the wood stained black where the curse had rebounded. Hermione did not want to go in but Harry was already moving through the front door. It opened with little resistance and a slight creak. The monument to the Potter’s murder standing behind them like some kind of dark memory.

“You just going to stand there all night?” He smiled at her as he asked, reaching his hand out for her to take. She reached out and basked in the warmth of his touch. She couldn’t wait for this all to be over. To be able to tell him how she truly felt about him all of these years. She couldn’t do it until Voldemort was dead. That much was certain, he had too much on his shoulders already without the burden of her feelings on top of it all. She was so in love with him, she felt it like a physical weight on her heart.

The moment they crossed the threshold into the house she felt heavy wards fall. Harry had felt it too, his hand tightened in hers and his wand was out already glowing red at the tip. Hermione drew hers a beat behind him. Ready for the attack she knew was coming. The house was creaking under their feet as they walked deeper inside. Sixteen years’ worth of dust rising up into the air and making their noses itch. 

“Wouldn’t the wards have fallen the night my parents were killed?” Harry whispered to her. 

She agreed. This was raising all kinds of alarm bells in her mind and she was just about to tell Harry that they needed to go when she heard the voice. It was a woman’s, sweet and melodic. It put Hermione at ease while raising her suspicions at the same time. 

“ _ This way, follow the light.”  _ The disembodied voice only made their paranoia worse.  _ TRAP! TRAP! TRAP!  _ Her mind was screaming at her now. Harry turned towards the direction it came from wand raised and aimed. Hermione was tugging him towards the door.

There was an orb of bluish-white light floating in the air, twitching and beckoning for them to follow. It had to be a trick. What kind of wards stayed active after the original casters had died? What kind of magic produced a voice and a light? Nothing she was aware of, that was for sure. 

“It’s a trap, Harry. We have to go!” She was hissing at him now. Stil tugging his rigid body towards her and farther from the light.

“It’s not a trap. It can’t be. That’s my mother’s voice. I know it.” Not letting go of her hand, Harry walked after the light that led them down into a basement, easily pulling her with him even though her resistance. The orb split into four and moved to all four corners to light up the room. 

On the floor was a ritual circle. Long since faded and broken and in the center a pentagram, in the middle of which was a crudely drawn square just wide enough to fit Hermione’s emaciated body. She relaxed, something in the room was giving her a sense of safety and security. Her mind screamed at her that they were being stupid. That they would be caught. 

_ Shut up! This can’t be a trap. Voldemort would never think of something like this. He would never understand a mother’s love enough to use her voice against her child.  _

While Hermione was scolding herself Harry had moved to the pentagram, quietly running his fingers over the points. 

“Hermione, can you translate these runes?” He asked. 

She moved to where he was crouched on the floor. The runes around the pentagram seemed oddly fresh. As if the intervening years had never touched this part of the circle. There were five runes. One in each point of the pentagram. She studied with her brow crinkled and her tongue between her teeth. 

**She’s never been more attractive than when she’s concentrating on something** _ .  _ The thought intruded into Harry’s mind before he could stop it. He’d dissect it later; there were more important things to worry about just now.

“Well, this one is Algiz which means Protection. This one is Eihwaz which translates to defense…” 

She trailed off as she realized the implications of this rune being placed here. The same rune on Harry’s forehead. The scar that wasn’t really a scar and her stomach sank. 

She’d always thought the scar was strange but if it was a rune put there by Lily Potter. If she had used her own magic to power the ritual… It made so much sense that Hermione knew with certainty that this ritual circle was used to help Harry survive that Halloween night. Lily had sacrificed herself in her last moments so that her son could survive. 

“This one is Kano for opening. Perthro for Destiny. And this one, Odal roughly translates to Heritage or inheritance.” Her voice was cracking and tears in her eyes. Whatever was locked away under this spell, it was meant for Harry to open. 

“If I’m reading the runes right, and I know I am then...Your blood is the key to the lock, Harry.” She spoke without hesitation. The orbs in the corners strobed as if applauding her quick thinking. 

He looked up at her, his own tears reflecting the light of the orbs. He didn’t even hesitate to trust her. Lifting up his wand, he cut his palm and watched as the blood pooled there. Dark red, almost black and reflecting the light in the room. It almost looked silver, like unicorn blood. Harry tilted his hand letting the blood drip into the center of the pentagram causing the square in the middle to illuminate in the same bright light that had led them down here. It lasted a couple of seconds and then dimmed to reveal an open trap door.

They both leaned over to see what was inside. There lay an envelope, a Pensieve, a black velvet box, and finally a vial with a swirling memory drifting inside. Harry lifted the envelope with shaking hands.  _ Harry James Potter  _ was written on the back in elegant, lopping script. 

He tore the flap open to reveal aged parchment. He made himself comfortable on the floor, unfolded the letter and leaned forward to read, forgetting Hermione who was standing to the side, dumbstruck at all that had happened so far.

_ My son, _

_ My wonderful son. If you are reading this letter that means that we are dead. I am sorry Harry. More than you know that we were unable to raise you, to watch you grow up. So sorry that we are going to miss so much of your life. There is much you need to know so I will make this quick: _

_ First, the prophecy told to Dumbledore was not the only one made concerning your destiny. Another was made to your mother and me in our seventh year by a Ravenclaw year mate. We’ve included the memory of the prophecy and a Pensieve, they are rare after all. _

_ Second, you should know that your mother created a ritual. After Dumbledore told us of the second prophecy concerning you and the dark lord she devoted herself to protecting you. It took her almost a year to create it but she did and you are alive to read this because of her sacrifice.  _

_ Thirdly, and finally, Once you watch the memory you will understand the final gift we have left for you. They belong to you now. They’ve been passed through the Potter line from the time of Merlin himself. Protect her, Harry. No matter what happens, it is imperative. They are meant for people like us. Like your mother and I. We wore them before you. The halves of a whole. _

_ We love you more than our own lives, Harry James Potter. Never doubt that for a second. _

_ P.S. Do not let Sirius run amok. He needs someone to reign him in and it’s up to you now. _

_ _ Harry stared at the letter, long since having finished reading. He was numb, unsure of what he should be feeling. His mother had died to protect him? There was a second prophecy? What else was hidden in the trap door? And Sirius! Harry had barely enough time to get to know is godfather before he was ripped from him. The same way his parents had been ripped from him. Suddenly Harry was livid.

Before he could vocalize any of these questions or his growing ire, Hermione was there, hugging him and whispering that it was okay, it was all going to be okay. No matter what was in the letter, they’d get through it. She’d stay right by his side until the very end. For want of some better reaction, Harry merely passed the letter to her and let his arms fall to his sides. She was a genius, the brightest witch of the age. She’d know what to do with this onslaught of information.

She took the letter and read. Then she reread. Finally, after a third read-through, she turned to Harry who was still sitting on the floor staring off into space. 

“Get the Pensieve out, Harry. We have to see this other prophecy,” she said. Her eyes still locked on the letter.

Following directions was easier than coming to terms with the contents of the parchment so he reached in and pulled out the three items hidden inside. He was about to open the velvet box when Hermione covered his hands. 

“Not yet. We have to have all of the information before we decide what to do with that.” she took the box and placed it on the floor by the open trap door.

He nodded, got up and walked to a desk pushed up against the right wall. Placing the Pensieve down, he poured out the memory. Hermione came to stand next to him, taking his hand in hers and lending her silent support and strength. Harry took a deep breath and turned to Hermione. 

“Ready?” she nodded and together they dipped their fingers into the bowl and were promptly sucked into an empty classroom in Hogwarts, twenty years in the past.

James and Lily sat with their backs to them. A girl with long, curly, blonde hair sat in front of them. Her eyes were glazed and she spoke in a voice, not of this world.

_ “...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…she will be the source. She, the child of the mundane. The other half. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…” _

The memory ended with Lily and James clutching each others hands and standing up.

“This prophecy is different. Who is the “she” spoken of? The other half? The other half of what?” Hermione was speaking to herself, pacing back and forth in the cramped basement.

“Me. The other half of me. It means you, Hermione.” Harry said it with such certainty that she didn’t even think to question it. After all, she had been thinking it for years.

He was right and somewhere deep inside she had always known. He was the other half of her just as she was the other half of him. It was why she could never leave his side. Why she never second-guessed being involved with his life that was so full of adventure, danger, and darkness. 

Instead of answering him, she walked over and hugged him. She tried to convey all of her love in that simple contact. All of her anger at the lot he was dealt in this life. All of the heartache and death he had seen. If she could spare him even a little bit of it, then she would take this new role and she would fly with it. She leaned up on her tippy toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. A promise that she’d be there until the end.

He hugged her back while simultaneously sagging with relief that she hadn’t run for the hills the second he had made his proclamation. He knew it was true just as surely as he knew that Voldemort would never stop coming after him. 

He held on to her, soaking up the comfort she offered. It warmed his bones and filled his aching stomach. He knew he’d get through this just as long as she was by his side. His other half. He’d been so stupid, it had been right in front of him all along but of course, the great dunderhead he was, he was too blind to see it. 

“Let's see what’s in the box, Harry.” She whispered in his ear and her breath sent a shiver down his spine.  **Now is not the time for teenage hormones! ** He chided himself. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

They both stepped back to the pentagram carved into the floor where Hermione had left the velvet box. He picked it up and together they opened it to discover two plain gold bands. On the inside was inscribed “One half to make a whole.”

Harry lifted up one of the bands and held it towards Hermione. Waiting for her to give permission to place it on her finger. She watched him and within the space of a moment, the time between heartbeats, she made the decision. She held her hand out to him and nodded.

He hesitated for a moment but proceeded anyway, slipping it onto her left ring finger. The moment the ring was secure, it glowed blue and then faded, resizing to fit her finger. It felt right like it had always belonged there. She felt whole.

She took the second ring, Harry’s hand was already there waiting as she slipped it on. It happened the same way, resizing for his broader hand. Once both rings were in place they began to pulse in time with their respective heartbeats. 

“Wow,” Harry whispered to himself. “Is that you? Am I feeling your heart beating?” He was looking into her eyes now and she nodded. 

“I feel yours too” The words came out on a breath. This was magic of the purest form. Rings forged using soulmate bonds. She was floored by the gifts bestowed upon her this night, and she knew she would do everything she could to protect them.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

As long as the ring kept pulsing it would be okay. As long as she was alive, he would have strength left to fight. Harry kept repeating this to himself as he ran through the great hall. Firing stunners everywhere he saw the swish of a dark cloak. 

Finally, he reached the middle where Voldemort was battling Shacklebolt, McGonagall, and tiny Professor Flitwick. Even with three powerful wizards fighting him, Voldemort was still winning. Blocking his spells was becoming more difficult, the adults were tiring fast. He had to do something before anyone else died for him.

He ran to the center where they were in the midst of battle and screamed “Hey! Tom! You want  _ me _ , don’t you? Stop wasting time and fight me like a man… Or a snake man. Whatever you are these days.” Harry was purposely trying to agitate him. The angrier he was the more likely he would be to make a mistake. 

It didn’t work. Harry had succeeded in infuriating him, but it had the opposite effect. Instead of turning on Harry as he wanted, Voldemort looked around the hall. He smiled coldly when he found what he was looking for, raised his wand and fired off an Avada in the opposite direction. 

It all happened in slow motion. Harry turned to see where Voldemort had fired, he saw Hermione fighting Dolohov and before he could do anything more than inhale, the green light hit her and she fell. Unblinking, unseeing, dead. The ring stopped pulsing. 

Harry would never be able to recall clearly what had happened after Hermione was killed. His vision went red and within ninety seconds Voldemort lay dead at his feet. The crowd cheered, death eaters tried to escape and were thwarted. He heard nothing, He saw nothing, he felt...nothing. She was dead and nothing mattered anymore. He wished  _ he _ was dead.

He left the great hall, ran from the grounds before anyone could catch him. He didn’t want to see anyone least of all the Weasley’s. Harry was thought he’d never forgive Ron for abandoning them, now he was certain of it. He didn’t want to answer questions or give interviews. He had sacrificed enough. His payment was to be left alone. The world be damned, he had nothing left to give them. They had taken everything from him and left him bereft.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

October 31st, 1998

Harry had never taken off the ring. It was the only proof he had that their connection had been real. That  _ she  _ had been real. He couldn’t even think her name these days. Not that he could think much of anything anymore. His entire life consisted of the sitting room in Grimmauld Place and a bottle of Ogden’s finest. 

Five months had passed since the battle. Owls had come and gone, their letters unopened and collecting dust on a side table. He had spoken to no one since. He had locked down Grimmauld Place, raised wards to make the house impenetrable. Fuck them all. He just wanted to be alone. Maybe he could drink himself to death then they’d finally be together again. 

Everything he had endured, everything he had given up, everything he had done for the good of the world and how was he repaid? With the death of his soulmate. A soulmate he had been too cowardly to act upon. He had been scared of falling in love, scared of dragging some innocent woman down the path his life was sure to follow. 

Misery and pain. That was all his life consisted of. Well if that’s the way the fates wanted to play it then fine. He wouldn’t lift a finger to help anyone ever again. It wasn’t worth the price. Harry got up from the couch, the smell of sweat and tears rising up with him. He’d have a shower, he decided. It was time, he could barely stand the smell of himself anymore. It was making him nauseous. 

Harry stripped off his clothes and climbed into the hot shower. The water felt great after a month of wearing the same sweatpants and t-shirt. He could feel the weeks of built-up dirt sliding down his skin and into the drain, washing away the proof of his yearning. He stilled under the spray.

Something had changed, he felt a shiver start from his head and work its way down to his toes. The atmosphere became charged with magic making it hard to breathe. What was wrong? What had caused this? He was geared for an attack before he realized what had caused this. 

The ring! The ring he refused to take off after her death, it was pulsing again. A steady rhythm of a heart that should no longer be beating. Was this some kind of cruel joke? He didn’ drink enough to be hallucinating. 

Before he could start questioning his sanity a small hand wrapped itself around his waist coming to rest on his abdomen. Another came after it so that he was fully enveloped in her warmth.

“This can’t be real. This isn’t real. You died and I have finally lost what was left of my mind.” 

Harry was talking to himself. Not to her, not to the woman who died because of him. No, he was talking to the empty air in his empty home.

“I’ve come back, Harry. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so hard to watch you torture yourself all of these months. Knowing all the while that I’d be back.” She was kissing his back now. Rubbing her cheek against his skin. She never got to feel him like this before she died. 

There was never any time to explore this feeling. After Godric’s Hallow, it had been a mad rush to end the war. The Horcruxes destroyed, one final step left before they could have the life they so desperately wanted. Not knowing at the time that they’d not have it. Now there it was, now they had all the time in the world.

“How?” He choked out. Not even magic was capable of this. He had destroyed the Resurrection stone to prevent himself from forcing her back after the thought had crossed his mind for the hundredth time. There was no other way.

“Soulmate magic, silly. The second we put on the rings, it solidified our bond. The power he knew not? It was soulmate magic. By killing me, you absorbed my power, and I am quite powerful if I do say so myself.” He felt her grin on his back. 

“He gave you the power to destroy him. He fulfilled his own prophecy. I had to wait until Halloween when the veil between the dead and the living was thin enough to break through. I followed your heartbeat all the way back.” She moved her left arm up to rest over this heart. She was kissing him again. Her right hand moving down to his thighs.

Harry turned around, finally daring to look at her. She was there! She was actually there, in the shower with him. Whole and breathing, smiling her beautiful smile at him… and very much naked. That thought flew quickly out of his head as the onslaught of what was happening. He couldn’t help it, he grabbed her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist and buried his head between her breasts. 

He cried for what felt like hours. Sobbing and mumbling incoherently about missing her, about wanting to die just to be with her. All the while she soothed him. Promised him that it would be okay. That she never went back on her word, did she?. She loved him and she was here and alive and she’d never leave him again. She had promised, hadn’t she?

When he finally had the strength to lift his head, she was smiling again, tears leaking from her eyes. Without another word, she kissed him, her hands on either side of his face. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of a future that wasn't lost. A love forged in destiny. A woman who had fought her way back to the living for him.

Harry didn't think, if he had lost his mind then that was fine with him. At least she was here in his delusions and that was all that mattered. He lifted her up so that he could enter her slick wet heat. As soon as he was sheathed inside of her, all rational thought left them both.

The water continued to rain down on them as he pushed her against the wall and slammed into her. She had her fingers in his hair clutching tightly pulling to the point of pain. She was moaning his name over and over again. 

“I’m here, Harry. I promise I’m really here.” She was scratching at his back now, leaving welts and drawing blood with her fingernails. 

“Harder, Harry. Harder!” she moaned and bit on his earlobe. If the lady wanted it harder, then harder he would give her. He was rocking into her with such force that he was surprised he hadn’t slammed through the wall. 

“Cum with me, Hermione.” He whispered in her ear and then sucked on her neck. She screamed his name as they came together. They slid down to sit on the floor of the shower. Foreheads touching, Harry began to cry softly again.

“Are you really here? Did I finally succeed in drinking myself to death?” it was a rhetorical question but she answered anyway.

“I met your parents when I was… on the other side. Your father is a dirty old man, you know. He told me to tell you that he wants  _ at least  _ six grandkids and that we should start practicing as soon as I get back. Sirius said eight. “Our own quidditch team, he said. Your mom smacked them both good for that one.” she giggled. 

“Your mother...She’s beautiful, Harry. She loves you so much. They all do. So much pride in them all. Your mother and father, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore… They were all there with me. They all love you so much. They helped me get back.” She finished. Harry was dumbfounded.

“I met the fates as well. They have an awful sense of humor. They’re also the ones who made it possible for me to get back. It took all of our collective powers. Apparently, exceptions must be made for  _ the chosen one. _ ” She emphasized this with air quotes. 

“So… this is real then? You’re really back.” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am.” She took his hand and smiled at him. It was good to be back and even better to be here with the other half of her whole.

Harry looked up at the ceiling and smiled for the first time in five months. “Thank you… All of you.” He whispered to his fallen family. He squeezed Hermione’s hand and leaned his head back. All was well.


End file.
